


Pacem

by n0cturnal_spirit



Series: Ancient World AU [2]
Category: Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, I still suck at summaries, M/M, Prince of Illyria!Ermal, Roman!Fabrizio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0cturnal_spirit/pseuds/n0cturnal_spirit
Summary: A collection of scenes following the prince of Illyria and his companion.





	Pacem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Hawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Hawk/gifts).



> Hello to whoever has found this interesting enough to read!
> 
> As you can tell, I simply could not let this AU be, I still hold it way too dearly.  
> I have had some very vague lines about this written as bulletpoints in the notes of my phone since the end of July (because this is what going to Ermal's concert does to you, among many other things, it gives you inspiration, and I hope that all of you have the opportunity to experience this, and seeing him so clearly in his element, enjoying himself, made me want to do a slight character study, and here I am, absolutely failing at it, and idulging myself at the same time, because why not?) and I have finally found the needed motivation to actually sit down and write it thanks to @a---fire---inside 's kind words in her Tumblr post about the previous work of this AU (grazie dal cuore tutto, senza di te magari non l'avrei fatto, ti voglio bene <3). 
> 
> And so, here I am again, writing this instead of studying (my exam is right around the corner and I am afraid, but one day of not-studying never hurt anyone, right? Right?!)
> 
> Excuse my indulgence of speaking about architecture, I can't help it. (here is what the city is probably supposed to look like: http://www.greeceancientmodern.com/OlympiaReconstruction.jpg combined with http://www.agathe.gr/image?id=Agora:Image:2008.18.0013&w=800&h=600)  
> The mentioned fountain in the gardens is supposed to be something like this http://www.ortygia.it/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/sirac_144049102.jpg but with a statue of Apollo instead of Diana (I am aware this is in Italy, but Siracusa was once Greek, so please don't mind it).  
> Also, this is the first time I actually write detailed smut, so if it's somewhat weird, I am so very sorry, I tried? (the best song to write smut to: Nishe by Muse; seriously, give it a listen, it is definitely the most sensual piece I have ever heard).  
> The sculpture of Eirene is supposed to be this one http://www.maicar.com/GML/000PhotoArchive/086/slides/8628.jpg
> 
> The scenes do NOT follow each other right away, there is an undefined amount of time that passes between them. 
> 
> Allora, hope you all enjoy this! Keep in mind that my English is still not that great and there might be some mistakes.  
> Buona lettura!

“The southern part of the _bouleuterion_ , as well as the whole western wing of the _leonidaion_ have been destroyed, my prince. There has also been some damage to the Southern _stoa_ , but it is not so severe.”

Fabrizio studied Ermal’s face as he followed the architect’s hand which was pointing to different sections of the plan of the city, showing him which parts had suffered damages during the Roman attack. His dark eyes were focused intently on the plans and his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration. Fabrizio loved that he always gave all of himself to whatever he had occupied himself with; it showed how _genuine_ Ermal was in his handlings and this made him perfect as a prince for the people (well, technically a governor, but that was simply a detail and Fabrizio could not care for it).

“What of the houses of the people?”

Fabrizio had to smile: of course that Ermal’s first concern would be the people’s well-being.

“I fear that the ones closest to the shore are entirely destroyed. They seem to have been burned down. Those to the south-west have been damaged as well, but need to be inspected further to know the extent of said damages. There are also more houses throughout the city that are in need of reparation, but they are in the south-eastern and north-western parts. The north-east seems to be untouched.”

“Then concentrate all the resources and workforce on the reparation of the living quarters of the people first. Everything else can wait.”

“Are you certain, my prince?” The architect seemed to be hesitating, looking back down towards the plan and up again towards Ermal. Fabrizio could see the prince tense up, despite it being barely visible and controlled, and knew that the Illyrian was trying to keep his anger at bay – he still could not stand it when someone would express an opinion regarding the people as something worth less than some random ware. Fabrizio put his hand on the other’s lower back, hoping his touch would be enough to keep him calm. He was in right in his hopes as Ermal relaxed and let out a sigh,

“Yes, I am certain. The well-being of the people matters first and foremost, therefore we shall start from there.”

“Very well, my prince. If this would be all?” Ermal nodded and the architect bowed his head and collected his plans, leaving the room.

Ermal sighed again and leaned further into Fabrizio’s hand which was still on his lower back.

“Don’t let them get to you so much. They still find it hard to change their mind set, simply give them some time.”

“I know, it’s simply… I wrongly expected that once I announced slavery as no longer legal and that all forced into it were free, everyone would immediately accept it and things would change overnight. It was very foolish of me.” Ermal let out a small tired laugh.

“Things _will_ change, there is no doubting this. The change has already started, and all this is because of _you_. You should be proud of yourself.”

Ermal turned to face him, a soft smile gracing his handsome features,

“I have you to be proud of me. And I am immensely grateful to you for it.”

Fabrizio leaned in to kiss him lightly to show the Illyrian that the gratitude was mutual (and also because he couldn’t hold back, Ermal was _captivating_ ).

“And yet, there still stands the question of finding work for the people. It must be work _with payment and humane conditions_. It could be on the building sites as well as in administration and agriculture. Many of them are also skilled in the arts and with all the destruction this would be very useful. There is need to establish a new Council, as well. Perhaps we should gather them all and explain the situation, giving them a free choice in what they would want to do. Though it must be soon. What do you think?”

Fabrizio was still astonished by the fact that Ermal held his opinion in such a high regard and it took him a few moments to collect himself.

“I believe this to be the best course of action. I would gladly help you with whatever you deem best. However, there is need of reparations in the army, as well. Too many lost their lives and now we barely have one third of our previous forces. I’m aware that you would rather that there is no need for an army at all; trust me, I share your view entirely. But it must be done, for the safety of Illyria. For _your_ safety.”

Ermal held his gaze for a few breaths, then nodded.

“Yes, you’re right. As much as I’d rather we didn’t have to, you have a point. May I leave this part to you? After all, you have the needed experience in this field.”

“I will take care of it. Anything you need, as long as I’m able to.”

***

They had decided to retreat in the gardens, seeking refuge from the afternoon heat. The symmetrical composition was combined skilfully with the natural landscape and one could easily think that it was all Terra’s work. The pathways were surrounded by tall cypresses, leading towards many fountains and beautiful marble sculptures of gods and heroes. On the sides, the divided fields were filled with olive trees, which made the place shadowy and slightly more breathable. In the middle of the garden, there was a monumental fountain with a statue of Apollo and a composition of other figures in the water, surrounded by massive _platanus orientalis_ , which might have been planted centuries ago, obscuring the whole central place in shadows.

Fabrizio and Ermal were sat on one of the benches surrounding the central fountain and had turned their attention to the group of youths gathered around the old teacher, who was currently giving them a lecture at the other side of the fountain.

“I find myself missing the times when I would be sat with them, listening to the wisdom of the philosophers and trying to absorb everything they would say.” Ermal broke the silence and Fabrizio turned towards him, finding him with his gaze fixed on the group with a trace of melancholy.

“You could still join them. I doubt that they would mind your presence.”

Ermal bit his lower lip, clearly thinking whether he should indulge himself or not. Fabrizio knew that the Illyrian needed a distraction from ruling, from all the _responsibilities_ that were weighting down on his ( _surprisingly strong_ ) shoulders, and this would be the perfect opportunity to let his mind wander for a while. So he leaned a bit towards the other, lowering his voice,

“Besides, I have never listened to a philosopher’s lecture. I would very much like to be able to understand you further, and what better way than to learn more about something that so often captures your interest?”

At this, Ermal took in a sharp breath and tore his gaze away from the group, focusing intently on the Roman’s own. His dark eyes were filled with that light that Fabrizio was always captivated by and he knew that his words have had the desired effect. This was confirmed by Ermal getting up from the bench and extending a hand to him to help him up, as well.

“It would be nice to listen for a while, yes.” Ermal’s voice had also become lower and Fabrizio thought that the effect of his words might have been a bit too strong than desired. He grinned and followed the prince to the gathered group.

“…and so all celestial bodies emit their own unique hum based on their orbital revolution. Depending on the length of their orbit, the sound has a different frequency, which could be described with a simple harmonious numerical constant. The emitted sound is physically imperceptive to the human ear. However, _didaskalos_ Pythagoras has used the mathematical principles to translate the qualities of these tones to the comprehensible tones of the lyre.” As the philosopher noticed them, he bowed his head slightly to Ermal, without taking his surprised eyes off him, and smiled, “My prince, it is an honour to have you here.”

“I did not mean to intrude on your lecture or interrupt you, _sophos_ Alexicrates. My companion and I simply wanted to listen to your wisdom for a bit.” Ermal bowed his head at the philosopher in his turn and Fabrizio followed him, also showing his respect for the wise man.

“Your presence is never one of intrusion, my prince. You could even join me in teaching, if you wish.”

“Oh, I could never compare to you, _sophos_ Alexicrates. My knowledge is not nearly enough to give lectures.” Ermal’s cheekbones had taken on a darker hue that sharply contrasted with his pale complexion and Fabrizio had to close his hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching to _touch_.

“Nonsense, my prince. Word of your knowledge and abilities travels far and wide. You are skilled with the lyre, no?” The philosopher could not hide his enthusiasm and most of his students clearly shared it, given by the looks full of admiration they had pointed at Ermal.

“I do play from time to time, yes.” Ermal’s voice had gotten quieter, clearly embarrassed, and Fabrizio was astonished by how the Illyrian could doubt his own abilities; he had yet to hear the other play the lyre, yet he was sure that Ermal would be as wonderful at it as he was with everything else.

“Then you are acquainted with _didaskalos_ Pythagoras’ theories on the pitch of the musical note and its proportions on the _heptachord_ lyre?” The philosopher waited for Ermal’s nod, then turned to his bag, which was next to one of the trees, and took out a lyre, handing it to Ermal. “Would you do us all the honour of doing a demonstration of the _Musica universalis_ theory, my prince?”

Ermal hesitated and looked around, noticing the admiration on the students’ faces. Then, he turned towards Fabrizio and the Roman smiled at him encouragingly; he would really love to listen to Ermal play (then again, he would love to watch him do _anything_ , so there was no surprise in this). That seemed to be enough as Ermal took a deep breath and accepted the instrument, taking a seat on the bench facing the students.

And as the Illyrian began softly pulling the strings of the lyre, Fabrizio was _stunned_. The way those long pale fingers moved slowly, creating a captivating dance of their own, made breathing hard for the Roman. Ermal had leaned slightly forward over the instrument held carefully in his grasp, and his dark curls had fallen into his eyes, which were currently closed, showing once more how the prince invested all of himself in what he did. He was speaking softly, perhaps explaining the theory to the students, but Fabrizio was too focused on his rosy lips moving and the sound of Ermal’s melodious voice accompanying the music. In the short second in which the Roman tore his gaze away from the godlike apparition before him, he turned to the statue of Apollo and thanked him for bestowing Ermal with his gift. Then, as if lured in by a siren, he once more lost himself in the vision underneath the shadows of the _platanus orientalis._

As the music stopped, Ermal lifted his gaze and captured Fabrizio’s. The Illyrian’s dark eyes were once more full of that light, this time even brighter than before. The look on the Roman’s face must have been expressing everything he felt at that moment, given that Ermal hastily stood up from the bench and handed back the lyre to the philosopher,

“I hope I managed to explain _Musica universalis_ without mistakes, _sophos_ Alexicrates. I would not want that your students have been led on wrongfully by my lack of knowledge.”

“You explained it better than I would have been able to, my prince. The word of your abilities pales before the truth.”

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity. And thank you for teaching the youth. The development of a civilisation depends of the knowledge of its members and the youth will one day have a main role to play in the advancement. So your role is as important in this as theirs will one day be.”

“We, as philosophers, are immensely thankful to you, my prince, that your court is always a safe refuge for us, where our knowledge is highly valued and sought out.” The philosopher bowed his head once more and then smiled at Ermal.

“And it would always remain so, _sophos_ Alexicrates. Now, you must excuse my companion and me, as we have some other duties to attend to.”

“Of course, my prince.”

With this, the philosopher turned to his students, continuing his lecture, and Fabrizio needed only one look at Ermal to immediately follow him back to their shared chambers.

Once inside, Fabrizio carefully got hold of Ermal’s face and kissed him softly, _oh so softly_ , until the other let out a heated sigh, his arms finding their way around the Roman’s neck. Fabrizio moved his hands downwards, stopping at the Illyrian’s waist and slowly started leading him towards their shared bed, without breaking the soft kisses.

While they were walking, Fabrizio unbuckled Ermal’s _chiton_ , taking it off carefully and then quickly doing the same with his own _angusticlavia._ His hands wasted no time in finding their way back to the other’s waist, leading him the last few steps it took to reach the bed, and then letting him lay down slowly.

Fabrizio spared a few moments to take in the sight before himself and in his mind echoed only one word: _breathtaking_. He lowered himself at the foot of the bed and, without taking his eyes off of Ermal’s gaze, started slowly, _so very slowly_ , going up along the prince’s body, his hands tracing lightly those endlessly long legs, the pale skin in sharp contrast underneath his own tanned one. His touch left behind a trail of goosebumps and he could see Ermal’s eyes becoming darker and darker with each caressed centimetre of his skin, despite the light still filling them. Fabrizio continued moving upwards, his hands travelling up on that perfectly shaped abdomen, then the long thin neck, the beautiful sides of his face, until he buried them in the mess of soft dark curls that he loved so much. He then leaned forward, giving Ermal’s lips another soft kiss, then moved to his well-sculpted jaw, then down along his neck, on his sharp collarbones, further downwards along his chest, until he reached the other’s member. He sought once more the Illyrian’s gaze, which was already fixed on him, full of desire.

“You resemble a god so much that at times it is hard to believe you are mortal.” Fabrizio’s voice was low and gruff, and it clearly had an effect on Ermal, as he took in a sharp breath and bit his lip. “The myths say that we were created in the image of the gods and you are the personification of this assertion. All the sculptures pale next to you. You are a vision, sent by the gods themselves, and I will be forever grateful to them as I seek a way to redeem myself to them for the rest of my days. Let me give you all the pleasure I am capable of giving and perhaps this way I would succeed at showing my gratitude at least partially.”   

Ermal seemed to be incapable of forming words at this instant; he let out a low moan and nodded at Fabrizio, further holding his gaze.

The Roman, without breaking the eye-contact, lowered his head and took the other fully in his mouth. The sound that left Ermal’s lips could only be described as _deliciously sinful_ , and Fabrizio found it hard to hold back a moan of his own. He took a hold of the Illyrian’s hips with one of his hands, placing the other on his abdomen, and began moving his head slowly, hollowing out his cheeks each time he moved upwards, his eyes never leaving the other’s. Ermal buried his right hand in the Roman’s hair, tugging at it lightly, which caused another moan from him. His left hand held the pillow above his head in a tight grip, the bones of his knuckles being acutely defined underneath his skin.

Once the moans of the Illyrian became more frequent and the tugging on his hair stronger, Fabrizio let the other fall out of his mouth, which caused a light hiss from Ermal at the loss of contact. He slowly moved upwards once more, leaving trails of soft kisses on the other’s abdomen, and stopped at his mouth, sealing their lips once more. Reaching out blindly for the bottle of olive oil he knew they had on the small table next to the bed, he once more buried his other hand in the soft dark curls of the Illyrian. Once with the bottle in his grip, he let go of Ermal’s hair and poured some of the oil in his hand, without breaking the soft kiss they were sharing. Returning the container on the table, he took the other in his hand, spreading the oil along his length. Ermal moaned against his lips and Fabrizio broke the kiss, lifting himself up on his knees above Ermal. The Illyrian captured his gaze and held his breath, anticipating his next action.

As the Roman slowly lowered himself on the other, Ermal took in a deep breath, his chest rising, and buried his fists in the linen sheets. Fabrizio let out a low moan, his head falling back and his eyes closed, his mouth hanging slightly open. He gave himself a few moments to get used to the sensation, his hands finding Ermal’s hips to hold himself upwards on, and lifted his head once again, finding the other’s eyes already fixed on him. He let his head fall slightly forward, closing his eyes halfway and opening his lips a bit, knowing well how affected Ermal was by that exact expression, and began moving his body slowly.

Ermal threw his head back, his moans getting louder with each movement that the other made, and his hands moved to take a grip on the Roman’s hips, his elegant fingers burying in his skin. Fabrizio did not quicken his pace; he was determined to prolong Ermal’s pleasure as much as he could, even if that would mean testing out his own self-control. He moved one of his hands, finding Ermal’s, and intertwined their fingers. This made the other look once more at him, his breathing irregular and broken by the gradually more frequent moans that were leaving his opened mouth.

The moment Ermal’s gaze found his, the Illyrian let himself go: his eyes fell closed, he inclined his head upwards, revealing his long neck, and opened his mouth, letting no sound past his sinful lips. His grip on Fabrizio tightened, which served to push the Roman over the edge as well, and he moaned Ermal’s name lowly as his vision became surrounded by white, rendering the Illyrian even more divine than usual.

Fabrizio let himself fall on top of the other, immediately capturing his lips with his, still ever so slowly. Ermal’s arms quickly found their way around him, holding him tightly, as he returned the kiss.

“I believe your debt to the gods has been paid.” Ermal was still out of breath, his voice coming out lowly. “And yet, it would seem like I owe them one, as well, since they have given me you. You say I resemble a god, yet have you looked at yourself? You are clearly their masterpiece and I am the luckiest mortal in the universe to have you here.”

The Roman felt his face heating up and he lowered his gaze in embarrassment; however, Ermal’s next words made him look up quickly at the other again,

“I know that this is too much to ask of you and also quite selfish of me, and would understand if you give me a negative answer, yet I need to know. Would you spend the rest of your days with me, by my side, as my consort?”

Fabrizio’s eyes widened in surprise and he took in a sharp breath; he could see how nervous Ermal was, his eyes just as wide and his teeth worrying his lower lip. The Roman blinked a few times to compose himself, then smiled widely at the Illyrian,

“I am honoured that you would ask me this, though there is no need for you to do so. There is no other place where I would rather spend my life, if not by your side, for as long as you’ll have me. I am yours, now and forever.”

***

As Fabrizio entered the study, he found Ermal and his brother at the desk, both bent over some papers, deep in discussion.

“Is something the matter?”

His words made both brothers look up and, as Ermal saw him, he smiled widely,

“No, not at all! Come, take a look!”

Fabrizio joined them at the desk and looked at the papers, which turned out to be concept designs for a temple. His expression must have betrayed his confusion, because Ermal began explaining without being prompted,

“The reparations of the city were completed last year. And since the Roman attack a few years ago, we have been living in peace. Yes, we continue to pay the Republic in both currency and wares, and yes, Illyria is technically under Rome’s jurisdiction. Yet, despite this, we truly have been prospering during this time of peace. The storehouses are full of food, as are the treasuries with riches; the city has been restored, the arts and studies are blooming, and most important of all, the people are happy. And all of this thanks to the peace. So, I deemed it appropriate that a temple should be built in the name of Eirene, to thank her for the peace she has given us. I discussed this with Rinald and asked him to work on some designs. He just finished them this morning and we were discussing them when you came. Right on time, if I must say so, because I’d love to hear what you think of them, as well.”

It was still astonishing to Fabrizio that Ermal held his opinion in such a high regard. Yes, it was to be expected as he has been his consort for a few years now, yet it still made his skin tingle and warmth blossom inside him every single time. He took a breath to compose himself and looked up at Ermal,

“I think it is entirely adequate. She has answered our prayers for peace and we must thank her in kind. Building her a temple seems the best way to do so. And these designs are wonderful. Where are you thinking of stationing it?”

“On the shore, where the Romans attacked. With this I hope it would act as a protection from further acts of war. Also, the sea brings me peace, therefore I could not think of another place more suitable to build a temple dedicated to it.”

Rinald shuffled through the papers on the desk, taking out some from the bottom of the pile and showing them to Fabrizio,

“And this is the design of the statue. How do you find it?”

The design depicted the beautiful goddess with a sceptre in her right hand, and Plutus and a cornucopia in her left; it was clearly an allegory for prosperity under the protection of Peace.

“It is perfectly suitable for the temple and with a clear enough meaning. You truly have a talent, Rinald.”

“Thank you and please tell that to my brother.  He doesn’t seem to believe it.” Rinald grinned at Ermal and collected his designs, making his way to the exit. “I will discuss this with the architects and sculptors and see to it that the construction begins as soon as possible.”

Before any of the others could answer, he had already let the door close behind him, leaving them alone.

“He’s wrong, I do believe he is talented.” Ermal was still looking at the door where his brother had been mere seconds ago.

“He knows it; he is simply teasing you, as brothers seem to do.”

Ermal turned to face him, a genuine smile gracing his beautiful face. Fabrizio loved that smile; it had brought him the peace he had sought for years. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I look forward to hearing what you thought of it, so please do not hesitate to leave a comment, they make me the happiest person in the world!  
> (Also, this is the greatest fandom I have ever been a part of, everyone is wonderful and the content is so well-made! Vi voglio beneeeee <333)


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